


Patience Is A Virtue

by MadlyMusical



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Baby's first porn, Don't Thirst 2020, I think that's it as far as tags go?, Light dom/sub elements if you squint REALLY hard, M/M, Strip Tease, i'm doing my best here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadlyMusical/pseuds/MadlyMusical
Summary: There was naked fondness in his expression, though he tried to tamp down on it. “I thought I told you to wait.”“No, you only said we didn't need to rush.”Now he was looking a bit more irritated. “...Wilson. Darling. Light of life. If you would just, for a tiny little moment, lay back and wait, I promise you I will make it well worth your while.”
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Patience Is A Virtue

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done a smut before please be gentle

Rushed kisses and breathless, mumbled nothings. Maxwell's cold hands pushing up under his button-up and bunching his waistcoat up so that it pressed uncomfortably into the top of his ribs. His hands were always so, so cold.

But it wasn't the sole reason he squeaked as those cold hands combed through the hair on his stomach, following it down to the button of his trousers. There were kisses being pressed to his neck, behind his ear, and he was oh-so disappointed when Maxwell didn't follow him down onto the fur roll.

The rumpled waistcoat was unbuttoned and tossed aside, and then finally, blissfully, Wilson undid the button on his trousers. By the time he'd wiggled out of them and his underwear, letting his cock stand free, Maxwell had only slipped off his shoes and socks.

Of course, he couldn't just put his clothes aside for the moment. Passionate moment be damned, god forbid his socks go unfolded. Frustrated, Wilson got to his knees and shuffled towards him, already making to grab the buckle of his belt. Only to have his hands slapped away.

“Oh for God's sake, just give me a moment, will you? We have time, there's no need to rush. You know there's something to be said for patience.”

“Sure. You'd know all about that, huh? Only saint-like thing about you.” And to emphasize his point, Wilson pressed his face into Maxwell's thigh, breath ghosting over the prominent bulge trapped behind the fabric. To his credit, the stern look on Maxwell's face only twitched.

Hands through Wilson's hair, undoing tangles and scratching in what was probably meant to be a soothing way were doing exactly the opposite, and petulantly he stuck his tongue out to graze the clothed erection just centimetres from his face. Hissing under his breath, the hand turned rough, gripping his hair and pulling away.

There was naked fondness in his expression, though he tried to tamp down on it. “I thought I told you to wait.”

“No, you only said we didn't _need_ to rush.”

Now he was looking a bit more irritated. “...Wilson. Darling. Light of life. If you would just, for a tiny little moment, lay back and wait, I promise you I will make it well worth your while.”

There was approximately one occasion Wilson could think of where Maxwell did not live up to that promise, and it was entirely the fault of whoever ran all the way back to camp with two Vargs on their tail. So, hoping there would be no repeat incidents that required them to leave their tent half-clothed and disarray, Wilson laid back on the fur roll and glared up at Maxwell.

Unperturbed by this, Maxwell finally undid his belt buckle and pulled said belt free from the loops. Then, casually, deliberately, dropped it onto the floor of their tent. Next came the button of his trousers' undone in a flick of his wrist before his hand came to cup the bulge. Sighing, softly, he caught the zipper with his thumb, and as he stroked down his length brought it with him.

Regrettably, Maxwell soon pulled his hands away to raise them above his head, stretching almost like a cat and letting his shirt ruck up as he did. Then, again all too casually, he pulled his suit jacket off his shoulders and let it slip from his arms onto the floor. The waistcoat came off with far less fanfare, but still joined the jacket on the floor.

One, two, three, four buttons of his shirt. And then he brought a gloved hand to his mouth and licked the pads of his fingers before trailing back down to circle a nipple. Lightly taking it between his forefinger and thumb, he rolled it. Flushing on his face has begun to travel down his neck and make it's way to his chest, as his free hand made it's way back to his mouth. This time, he grabbed the wrist of his glove between his teeth and peeled it slowly off his hand. Dropping the glove from his mouth, Maxwell let go of the pert, red nipple to take his other glove off, this time dragging it off by the middle finger.

After the last few buttons of his shirt, Maxwell finally hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and pull them all the way down his legs. There was a wet patch at the front of his boxers, precum having soaked through. Taking his length into his hand, he rolled his thumb over the tip. Over, and over, and over. Shuddering softly as it twitched and the wet patch grew.

Finally, he let his unbuttoned shirt slip off, and undid his tie with one last flourish. Holding it in one hand, Maxwell finally peeled his soiled underwear off.

And, as he knelt down over Wilson, who sat slack-jawed and staring, Maxwell looped the tie around the back of his neck. “See? I told you it'd be worth the wait.”


End file.
